#mostly because i stalled out for like a month in the middle of this

[griseldabanks]

Had a facepalm moment earlier of discovering the brilliant fic you wrote for someone’s Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan prompt and hoping you’d write more, and then…several days later…realizing…PROMPTS. That’s how this works. Anyway, can’t believe I didn’t send you one earlier, but: Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan for "I missed you”, if you’re up for it?

Let Me Count the Ways ask game

It had been a long, exhausting day, but Obi-Wan didn't feel tired in the least. Packing up all of his belongings (few as they were) and moving them across the Dune Sea would have been a tiring endeavor, even if he hadn't just come from a harrowing trip halfway across the galaxy. And then, of course, there was a new cave to find, preliminary preparations to be made before nightfall in order to make his new home habitable...but none of that mattered.

Wrapping his cloak around himself against the chill of the desert night, Obi-Wan sat on the shelf of rock where he'd placed his bedroll. He pulled his legs up onto the blanket, closed his eyes, and opened himself to the Force.

Warmth and light that had nothing to do with his small heating unit suffused him from the inside out. For a moment, he hesitated. Then he reached out tentatively and murmured, “Master Qui-Gon?”

“Obi-Wan.”

His eyes popped open, and there, sitting beside him on the rock as if he'd been there the whole time, was Qui-Gon. Translucent and tinged blue—like a hologram and yet not—Qui-Gon looked the same as he had the day he'd died. The same twinkle in his eyes, the same hint of humor lingering in the creases at the corners of his eyes, in the twitch of his beard, in the lilt of his voice....

“You're here,” was all Obi-Wan could think to say.

Qui-Gon nodded patiently. “So I am.”

“I missed you.” Unbidden, tears welled up in his eyes. “I missed you so much, Qui-Gon.”

Qui-Gon's eyebrows knitted together with a look of sympathy. “I know.”

If he'd been here physically, he would have reached out and placed a reassuring hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder. Now, he didn't move, but Obi-Wan felt a gentle ripple in the Force washing over him, warm and familiar. Obi-Wan closed his eyes to savor that feeling, something he hadn't experienced in so long.

How many times a day would Obi-Wan feel that presence brush against his, like the touch of a hand? Checking to see where the other was, reassurance in a moment of trouble, a brief reminder or admonishment that needed no words. As unique and unmistakable as a voice, as a fingerprint forever marked in his soul.

And yet, for some twenty-odd years, he hadn't felt Qui-Gon's presence even once.

When Obi-Wan opened his eyes, he felt like a boy again. Like that twelve-year-old boy who had just become a Padawan and wondered if he would ever truly please his Master.

“I needed you,” he whispered, the desperation in his own voice surprising him. “I called to you, again and again. Where were you?”

Qui-Gon's eyes were as kind as ever as he folded his arms inside the voluminous sleeves of his robe. “Tell me, Padawan: What happens to us when we die?”

Now he really did feel like a boy again. This was a question even the youngest of younglings could answer. “We become one with the Force.”

Qui-Gon nodded, as though that settled the matter.

It didn't take a genius to understand what Qui-Gon was getting at. The dead became one with the Force, and the Force was a Jedi's constant companion. In a way, Qui-Gon had never really left.

And yet, Obi-Wan still couldn't shake the feeling of abandonment. He dropped his gaze to his hands clasped in his lap. “There have been so many times I needed your guidance, Master,” he whispered. “And never, not once, did I hear your voice.”

“And were you listening?” Qui-Gon's voice was gentle, oh so gentle, but still it made shame swirl in Obi-Wan's gut.

Because he hadn't been listening. He had closed himself off from the Force for so long, terrified of being found out, of being hunted down, of unintentionally betraying Luke to those who would kill him in an instant. And if he didn't leave even the slightest crack open for the Force to seep through, that meant Qui-Gon couldn't reach him either.

He really was like a child. A child with his fingers in his ears, demanding to know why no one would talk to him.

A warm brush of the Force, like a consoling hand placed on his back. Qui-Gon didn't even have to say anything, because he had already said it a thousand times, in a thousand situations over the years they'd worked together. Accept the shame, then let it go. You are not your mistakes. Learn from them, and they will help you grow.

Taking a deep breath, Obi-Wan envisioned his lungs filling with stale air from the years he had languished here on Tatooine. The years he had let the burden of his guilt press down on his shoulders till he could hardly raise his head in the morning. Then he breathed out, imagining the guilt and shame floating out like wisps of smoke on the air.

Opening eyes he hadn't realized he'd closed, Obi-Wan turned to look at Qui-Gon again. “I called to you when I went to face Vader.”

Qui-Gon nodded, eyes warm with compassion. “I was there.”

“I needed you...so many times...here on Tatooine.”

“I was there.”

Qui-Gon's form wavered, and Obi-Wan blinked, letting tears trickle into his beard. “When...I went to confront Anakin...on Mustafar...when I-I thought that I had...that I had....”

All he could see was his master's eyes, full of sympathy and compassion, understanding and acceptance. “I was there, Obi-Wan.”

For a moment, he held Qui-Gon's gaze. Then he dropped his head into his hands and let the tears flow. “So...every time....”

“Always.”

“You saw...every time I've failed....”

“And every success.” Like a warm blanket, Qui-Gon's presence folded around him in an embrace he felt in the depths of his soul. “I am proud of you, Obi-Wan. You have become a greater man and a greater Jedi than I ever could have foreseen.”

The heat of the twin suns seemed lodged permanently in Obi-Wan's chest. “Only because of your guidance, Master.”

They smiled at each other, and even though they looked nothing like they had when Obi-Wan had been an apprentice, the connection between them was as strong as ever.

[covenofagatha]

If you are able to. Could you please write an AgathaxReader where reader is very inscure about herself. Specifically the size of her breasts and Agatha shows reader just how much she appreciates every part of even the parts reader doesn't like. Maybe some soft smut.

(I don't see a lot about this.) But as always, only write this if you are comfortable with it.

💜🖤

Hope you enjoy!

What makes you beautiful

When you're feeling a little self-conscious about your body, Agatha takes it upon herself to make you feel better

Word count: 2400

Warnings: body issues, low self-esteem, soft sex, oral, fluff, praise

It’s your fourth date with Agatha and you wonder how mad the older woman would be if you cancelled. 

It’s not that you didn’t want to see her – because of course you do, she was great company and so hot and her lips on yours made you see stars – but you’re having a bit of a rough day. 

Before one of your classes, you had gone into the bathroom only to find one of the most perfect-looking girls on the planet complaining about a microscopic pimple on her face to her just-as-perfect two best friends. 

You know it shouldn’t have set you off the way it did, but watching three girls who were naturally gorgeous with clear skin and big boobs and curly hair talk about how “awful” they looked touched a sore spot. 

Going into the big stall, you tried really hard to ignore your reflection in the mirror. You’re not really sure when that started happening, but ever since middle school, when you had the worst acne you’d ever seen, you stopped wanting to look at yourself. 

It’s a lot better now, six months of Accutane did wonders for you, but you still have scars on your cheeks and wrinkles and just so many more blemishes than anyone else seemed to have. 

But that had been enough to send your insecurities flaring up, about your face, your body, your age, your inexperience, especially when you thought about Agatha. And now you’re in a spiral of low self-esteem and doubt.

You had met Agatha while working as a barista. The first time she had walked through the doors, you had found yourself absolutely enchanted by everything about her: her long dark hair, her blue eyes, the confidence absolutely radiating off her. She was perfect. 

And you were the tongue-tied barista who kept stuttering while repeating her order because of her intense gaze on you. 

She just smirked though. 

She then started making comments about how pretty you were when you would bring her the coffee, but you thought she was just being sweet. 

Until Agatha finally asked you out, teasing you for not picking up on her flirting. You had just stared at her, completely dumbfounded, feeling like a complete idiot. 

And things had gone well! She had taken you out to a nice dinner on your first date, a movie on your second, and pottery painting on your third. 

Dropping you off at your dorm after each one like a perfect gentlewoman, never doing more than brushing a soft kiss against your lips. 

And now, tonight, the fourth date is at her house. 

Mostly by your doing. 

When you had found out that the older woman had never even seen an episode of The Office, one of your favorite shows, you made it your personal mission to change that. 

You can’t cancel, you know that. Plus, you don’t really want to. The older woman always finds a way to make you feel better.

But you sigh while putting on some light makeup, cursing your brain for being so affected by the girls earlier. 

You know Agatha likes you. You know this. You can see it in the way her eyes sparkle when she smiles at you and the way she laughs when you say something silly and the way she gives you the best hugs when she drops you off after your dates. 

And there’s no way Agatha would be with someone if she didn’t want to, least of all with a college kid half her age. 

You chant those facts in your head like a mantra on the drive over to her house and all the way to her front door. You raise your hand to knock but it swings open to reveal Agatha in jeans and an oversized button-down shirt. 

“Hey, baby,” she says, stepping aside to let you come in. You press a kiss to her cheek and she returns it and then leads you to the living room. It’s your first time at her house and you can’t help but take everything in. 

It’s very her. From the artwork on the walls to the decor on the coffee table, you can tell that it’s her house, and you love it. 

“So, do you want to eat now or just dive right in?” Agatha asks, grabbing the remote to the television and offering it to you. It’s still early afternoon and you aren’t too hungry, plus you’re really not in the mood to eat. 

You take the remote from her and click the power button. “Can we eat in a little bit?” She nods and sits on the couch, patting the spot next to her. You happily sit down and she wraps an arm around you to hold you close. It’s the most contact you’ve had with Agatha and her fingers against your lower back are heating you up. 

Navigating to the show, you find the pilot episode and warn her that the entire first season is bad. She laughs melodically and kisses your temple. 

Halfway through it, you start getting antsy. Your leg begins to bounce and you tap your fingers absentmindedly against your thigh. 

You’ve already seen it and it hasn’t gotten any less cringey, plus you can smell Agatha’s sweet perfume. 

“You okay?” Agatha asks quietly, noticing that you’ve gotten restless. You hum in agreement, tilting your head to look up at her, when you find her staring back at you. 

More specifically, at your mouth. 

You close the gap before you can even think about it, and she smiles against you in surprise. At first, it’s just tentative, small grazes but then it becomes more; your lips part for her hot tongue to slip inside and you moan at the feeling and taste of her. 

The kiss gets heavier and her hands blindly help you maneuver until you’re sitting in her lap. She fumbles for the remote and then you can hear the television go quiet before she gently sucks at your bottom lip and her fingers slide down your back until they’re resting at your waist. 

“Agatha,” you breathe, tugging at her hair, shifting on her. She plays with the bottom of your shirt and then slips her hands underneath it so her skin is bare against your hips. You gasp at the warmth and you begin to feel a pull in the lower part of your stomach. 

But then she grabs onto the hem and, looking right into your eyes, asks, “Can I take this off?” Panic slowly starts to fill you even though you try to fight it. 

“Oh, um, yeah, okay,” you say, nerves evident in your voice, and her eyes widen. 

“Is everything okay? Sorry, I don’t mean to push, we don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to do,” she says, yanking her hands away from your body, and you can tell how guilty she feels. 

You take her hands in yours, interlacing your fingers. “No, I want to, it’s just…” you trail off, looking anywhere but at her in the room. 

“What, doll? You can tell me anything, you know that.” 

You take a deep breath. “I’m just a little self-conscious. Like about myself and my body.” And then the words start to pour out of your mouth. “I just wish my face and my stomach and my boobs and like all of it were different.” 

Tears prick your eyes from embarrassment at your outburst and you dare to glance at her, expecting her to be laughing or something. 

But she’s solemnly looking right back at you. “Baby, you are so perfect,” she says so softly that it almost makes your heart melt. 

You scoff in disbelief and she kisses your nose, your forehead, and then both of your cheeks. She tilts your face up so she can kiss your chin. 

“Every part of you is so beautiful.” 

You blush furiously. “M’kay.Thank you,” you mumble, not knowing how to deal with the praise. “You don’t have to say that.” 

“Say what, doll? The truth?” You try to squirm away but she doesn’t let you. “Can I show you how perfect I think you are?” 

You look, really look, into her eyes and see only compassion and earnestness. You nod. “Okay.” She smiles and turns your face so she can press her lips against every blemish you have on your right cheek, and then repeats on the left side. 

You’re almost completely overcome by emotion when she whispers “Beautiful.” You drag her mouth to yours, needing to feel more of her. 

This time, you don’t wait for her to ask to take your shirt off. You reach down and pull it over your head and get immense pleasure in the way she looks down and groans. 

“Oh, doll,” she sighs, hands tracing over your stomach and up to the edge of your bra. You chew on your bottom lip, still feeling hints of insecurity. You know boob size is something that you rationally shouldn’t be bothered by, but you still wish they were bigger. Agatha reaches around you to toy with the clasp. “Can I?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe, tensing just a little when she slides the bra off you. You fight the urge to cover yourself but Agatha just sharply inhales. 

“God, look at you,” she says, more to herself than to you, and then her hands are cupping you. Your head rolls back as her thumbs play with your nipples. “You’re so fucking perfect, baby. Your body is so fucking perfect.” 

She leans down and licks up your breast, chuckling at your moan. Her teeth nip at the undersides of the slight curvature and your breathing has quickly increased, the heat in your stomach rapidly growing. When her tongue flicks over your nipples and she sucks them into her mouth, it’s like there’s a wire running straight from your breasts to your cunt and she’s lighting it up.

“Agatha,” you plead but she stays right where she is, dragging her mouth over every square inch of your chest until you’re dripping. She goes painstakingly slow, paying so much more attention to your breasts than you ever thought possible, and you’ve turned into a whimpering, needy mess on top of her.  

“Why don’t you lay on your back, baby?” She suggests and you move quicker than you’d ever have to climb off her lap and readjust on the couch, all your insecurities forgotten and washed away with Agatha’s lips. 

But she’s committed to making sure that you feel good about yourself. Her mouth moves downwards, scraping her teeth gently against your ribs and stomach, against the little pouch that you can’t get rid of no matter how hard you try, leaving a trail of saliva. It tickles when she dips her tongue into your belly button and you giggle, but her featherlight kisses make you feel more accepting of yourself than ever. Goosebumps have risen all over you even though there is a fire in your belly. 

“So pretty,” she whispers, eyes flicking back up to you to take in your needy state. 

“Agatha,” you whimper again, begging for more, desperately needing for her mouth that feels so good against you to just go a little lower. 

She chuckles and you can feel the vibrations against your skin, making you roll your hips. “Patience, honey,” she shushes. “Let me worship you and show you just how much I appreciate all of you.” A small sound escapes your lips when she playfully bites at your pelvic bone and she goes back to painting your stomach with her mouth.

And when she finally, finally, tugs at the waistband of your shorts, you don’t have a single doubt or insecurity in your head. You raise your legs up to help her take them off and then she drags down your underwear so slowly it makes you even more crazy for her.

“Baby, you’re so wet,” she remarks, hands stroking up and down your inner thighs. 

You clench around nothing and whine. “Please, Aggie, I need you.” She sinks her teeth into the sensitive flesh on the insides of your legs and then soothes the spots with her tongue. 

“You’re so perfect, princess. You’re so beautiful, every part of you. Just the picture of flawlessness,” she says, at last stroking through your folds with her tongue. Your head falls back against the pillow at how good, how hot, she feels against you and a moan slips out of your mouth. You’re already so worked up from her teasing and she knows just what to do to build up your pleasure quickly. She knows it won’t take long and she’s not going to drag it out. 

“So pretty, such a pretty pussy,” Agatha says absentmindedly, dipping her tongue inside you, curling it, and then dragging it up to swirl at your clit. Your hands tangle in her hair while she continues moving her mouth on you, making little noises that reverberate against your cunt and only heighten the pleasure. 

“Agatha, so close,” you groan, grinding her hips against her face even more to chase the feeling building up in you. 

She pulls away for one second. “Cum for me, my perfect, beautiful princess,” she says and you gasp, the praise getting you to the edge. And then her teeth scrape against your clit and she sucks hard on it, which throws you over and you cum all over her face, hips still rolling while she continues to lap at you. 

You whimper when it becomes too much and you tug on her hair to pull her back up into a long kiss. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. 

She smiles against your lips. “Feel better, baby?” You nod your head and clasp her cheeks to kiss her even deeper. “Do you want to turn the TV back on?”

“Can we just cuddle for a bit?” You ask hopefully, and her face lights up. Your heart soars with so much fondness for this older woman.

“Of course, doll.” She wraps you up in a blanket from the couch and you settle in next to her, wrapping an arm and a leg around her. She kisses your head. “You’re so perfect, don’t ever think otherwise.”

And for maybe the first time ever, you believe it. 

[goodlucktai]

29 with Mikey and Leo please!

29. “Tell me where it hurts, and be specific.”

x

It really was his own fault. If Mikey didn’t want to be babied, he shouldn’t have broken his wrist. 

He was mostly just annoyed it happened in such a boring way, catching himself wrong falling off his skateboard.

Yes he’d decided to sneak off and find a sewer tunnel to attempt the full pipe loop a full two weeks before Draxum said the gross mystic mandrake tea would finish running its course, but he felt fine! His hands barely shook anymore, only when he overworked himself or let himself get too tired or too excited.

But from the look on everyone’s faces when he slunk home ungraciously dragging his board behind him, you’d think he was at death’s door. 

What was worse, Donnie wheeled him by the shoulders into the infirmary and deposited him right in front of Leonardo, the only person Mikey couldn’t out-stubborn, whose affable smile faded at once into that serious look that made all of his siblings straighten their spines and pay attention.  

If the skateboarding accident had happened pre-almost-apocalypse, Dr. Leo would have probably led with a joke instead of, “Tell me where it hurts, and be specific.”

Mikey resigned himself to a ridiculous amount of mother-henning for the duration his arm was stuck in its short cast. His brothers took his newly fragile hands so personally, like they were the ones who couldn’t hold an inking pen or color inside the lines or even cook a meal more complicated than lasagna without having to give up in the middle and have someone else take over. Like they were the ones who woke up shaking in the middle of the night from some distant, half-forgotten dream of disappearing into fragments of light, arms radiating pain like it was their job, a confused jumble of grief and fear and farewell on his tongue until he went and climbed into bed with papa or Raphie and let them hug it all away. 

Leo said Mikey’s wrist wouldn’t need the full six-to-twelve weeks that a baseline human’s would due to their genetic modifications—“Thank you, Barry,” they had chorused in varying degrees of sincerity (Mikey, Raph and Casey) and sarcasm (Leo, Donnie and Splinter)—but that he still needed to give it time to heal.

“You’re the toughest guy I know,” Leo had said, poking Mikey on the beak to stall the inevitable whine, “but you gotta give yourself a break, Miguelito.” 

He said it like his skin wasn’t still bruised like a peach and his shell all wired together from going one-on-one with an actual living nightmare even as he found the energy to take care of someone else. 

He sat there in the doctor’s seat, pressing carefully around the wet fiberglass to mold it to Mikey’s wrist, all his attention bent to the task. He always tended to his brothers’ hurts the same way, as if it was the most important and remarkable thing he’d ever do. 

Leo’s own casts had only been removed last month, and he was usually very good about following his own medical advice, if only because he knew his siblings would cite his behavior in a heartbeat if it meant they could loophole around doctor’s orders. So Mikey really had no choice but to sulk and accept the distant cousin of scolding he received. 

“It’s not a race,” Leo said, smiling at him. “No one’s gonna run off without you. Where would we go that’s half as good as where you’re at?” 

It was his knee-jerk reaction to smile at Mikey, like his day got better automatically when Mikey was in it, and it soothed that jangling, frustrated thing inside of Mikey’s chest that only got loud when no one took him seriously. Leo always took him seriously, was always the first of their siblings to believe he could do anything he said he could do, and that meant taking Mikey’s injuries seriously, too. 

He’d seen the way Leo had to run himself ragged making sure Donnie kept up with the treatments to his shell and Raph followed instructions on taking care of his eye to the letter. They were trying to spare Leo additional stress, but if they knew they were only compounding the stress he was already in and making it ten times worse, Mikey was pretty sure they’d shut up and take their medicine. 

Mikey wanted to be on Leo’s team, not playing against him. So he put his sulk away and put on his best listening face instead, rewarded when some nearly-invisible line of tension in Leo’s shoulders relaxed until it was gone.

Besides, it wasn’t all bad. He got to pick what color cast he wanted, and got everyone to sign it. And it wasn’t the most horrible thing in the world not to have to do any chores. 

And when Leo announced to the lair as a whole that he was going to visit his tío Hueso and bring back pizzas for dinner—in a tone that made it very clear he was not asking for permission or inviting any worrywart older siblings along—he followed it up with, “You coming, Angie?” 

Maybe because he had been under the scrutiny of worrywart older siblings, too, and understood better than anybody how close Mikey was to biting the next person who tried to baby him. Or maybe because Mikey was the exception to Leo’s rules and he always had been—always invited and always welcome and always wanted. 

In another place, in another time, Leo asked Mikey to die for him, and Mikey died for him. 

In this kinder one, Mikey jumped to his feet with a grin and said, “I’m with you!” and it didn’t cost him anything.

It should have been silly to say something out loud that they both knew was true, but sometimes it was nice to hear it.

[calliecwrites]

Shifter HRT, part 8 – Return to Hyper City (11 Months)

I’m on the way back to Hyper City. It’s the middle of winter, there’s a bitter wind, and it’s almost dark even though it’s still only afternoon. The bus is empty. Hardly anyone’s heading out this way on a day like this. When I get off at the tiny village, all the shops are already shut. But I’m not here for the village – I’m once again following the ritual that takes me to another world.

Tonight I’m heading to the Hyper Light Festival, the winter festival at the crossroads of reality. This time I’m ready. I am enough, and this time I’m not running away.

Look closely, and it’s clear I’m not human anymore. More of my body has changed, and I’ve been practising. My bones and organs are still the same, so the forms I can take now are mostly ‘human plus’ – little tweaks and additions to the basic human shape. I’m learning, step by tiny step. I’m wearing a few subtle signs of my inhumanity – my ears are a bit longer and pointier, my tongue is slightly forked, and I’ve got a greenish tinge to most of my skin, except for a few parts that still haven’t changed. It’s quite the contrast with my red hair. This is the first colour change I’ve managed to do. Do shifters have a default colour when fluid? I’ve never gotten a clear answer. But if mine was going to be green, I’d be totally fine with that.

Why not bigger changes, when I’ve been playing with arms and legs and all kinds of things? Partly because I still can’t hold the big things for long. Small changes I can hold now with only a little bit of effort. And, uh, partly because my tops don’t have enough sleeves. Who’d have guessed that human clothes aren’t designed for that? But this time I’m wearing my T-shirt with ‘be goo, do crimes’ on it, and damn anyone who makes a fuss. I’ve been running on adrenaline since I stepped out of the house looking not entirely human – but it’s so quiet, there’s been no one here to notice.

When I arrive in Hyper City, I stop by the registration office to get my shapeshifter license. I’m still slightly annoyed that I have to do this at all – do they think I’m going to try taking over the city as soon as I can imitate someone important? – but I can’t put it off any longer. I’m now officially a ‘provisional physiological polymorph’, and I’ve got a card to prove it – meaning someone who will, eventually, be able to take on any form as part of how my body works, without using magic. Blob of goo that can turn into anything, basically. They do some kind of scan to identify which world I’m from, and note that down too. And now I’m accepting that there really is magic here – seeing it listed on an official form in a dusty government office is what finally convinces me. It’s not just super-advanced tech, like I’d assumed.

Then I head for the central plaza. I can hear music in the distance, and hints of tantalising smells drift on the wind. By the time I get close, the streets are packed. And the plaza itself is full of… everything.

Hyper City doesn’t just connect to our world, but to many worlds, and all their winter festivals come together here. Yes, the multiverse is real. People changing species isn’t the only mind-boggling thing in this city.

There are stalls selling crafts, people dancing, performing, wearing costumes and masks, music, enchanters, impossible sculptures held together by magic – and more. Unfamiliar and enticing smells waft from stalls selling food from across the worlds. I hear voices in a hundred languages. There are people telling stories, playing games, eating and drinking, all packed in side by side. I spot a giant Christmas tree with glowing globes clustered round it, and it’s only one tiny part of everything.

It’s so much. Almost too much. My mind is drinking in the details. But I’m starting to relax. Enjoying the spectacle. Anonymity in the crowd.

The buildings around the plaza are brightly lit. Globes of light drift overhead, and now and again there are people in the air, too. If I had any doubt there’s actual magic here, it’s gone. I briefly wonder if you can acquire magic if you come from a world without any – something to check up on later. In places, people are gathered around bonfires, or at shrines to more gods than I’ve ever heard of. At street level it’s dim, on purpose I think, and many people carry candles. As they move it’s like a slow river of lights winding between the stalls. Light is a common theme here, and warmth, and protection – light against the darkest time of the year.

Snowflakes flutter on the wind. The parts of me that are still human are cold, but the parts that have changed are comfortable even in this.

And in the crowd, here and there, I spot therians and otherkin at all stages of transition – people who started off with a human body, but were never really human on the inside – people like me. The ones early on are a patchwork of human parts and changed parts, just like I am. We’re still a minority even here, but for once, I don’t feel out of place. It lights me up inside like my first time at Pride. I can’t stop grinning. I mean, technically I could, because I’m a shifter and could rearrange my face enough for that, even at this stage… but you know what I mean. I don’t want to.

Someone catches my eye, over where the crowd is a bit thinner. It’s their colour I notice first – a gloopy orange, almost like syrup. Then I notice their arms are entirely made of goo, translucent and with no bones inside, and so is their hair. They must be a slime! I’ve been reading a few slimes’ transition journals online, and we have a lot in common – we’re on different routes to a similar place. I don’t know if our species are actually related, or if it’s convergent evolution, but either way – someone else who’s a gelatinous blob that can shape themselves however they like? Sounds like someone who gets it!

Before I even think about it, I’m slowly making my way closer through the crowd. And now I’m nervous as hell – going up to some random person in the real world, just because they’re kinda like me? But that was the whole reason for coming here. That’s what I was hoping might happen. The festival was just an excuse, really.

As I get closer, I see that the rest of their head is still opaque and human, aside from the orange tint to their skin. But their fingers are tipped with claws, their bare feet are bird-like with talons, and they have a little blob of goo like a rabbit’s tail on their back. Their clothes look very waterproof, even though it isn’t raining – and oh, that must be to stop their slime soaking into things. I haven’t had that problem yet, but can totally believe it’ll be a thing later.

And then I’m there, grinning nervously – and, yes, with excitement too. I form another arm – a bit awkwardly because of the too-small sleeves – and wave with all three.

“Hi?” I say. “I saw that you’re a slime and uh…”

“Oh, uh, hi!” they reply, waving back. “Uh, yeah, I am a slime… and so are you by the looks of things!” they add with a growing smile.

“Close,” I say, “I’m a shifter! But I’m gooey too.” I turn my third hand fluid for a moment.

They raise an eyebrow. “Oh neat – wait? Like a shapeshifter?”

“Yeah! Actually I guess there must be lots of kinds of shapeshifters here, with the whole multiverse thing. We just call ourselves ‘shifters’ for short. Or, well, sometimes the People of Change if we’re being poetic – ‘fluid as the ocean, wild as the wind’, that kind of thing…” My voice cracks slightly on that phrase, that’s been with me my whole life, focus of so much longing. Then I laugh gently, as I poke my human parts: “Which I’m not, yet, as you can see.”

“Oohh! I do like the ‘fluid as the ocean’ bit, kinda hits very close.” They raise their arm, rippling it like a wave.

I don’t immediately respond, only to realise I’m staring at their arm. I pull my gaze away. “Sorry,” I say, laughing awkwardly, “I think my mind is trying to figure out how to copy your colour, but I don’t know how to do orange yet. I only just figured out green.” I let the green fade away in places, my skin changing back to its original colour, before bringing the green back. “It’s a nice colour.”

The slime looks a little flustered. “Don’t think anyone’s ever said that to me before, that they wanna try my colour, or that I have a nice colour, not really sure how to respond to that, but thank you – can say I’m quite a fan, so would definitely recommend it when you can though.” They pause a second before continuing. “But, and, uh, sorry if this is kinda rude, but uh, you still kinda look part human, I was told you had to become something else before you could do shapeshifter stuff?”

“I just got straight on shifter HRT,” I say, shrugging, “there was no mention of anything else. But I’m not going to one of the doctors here – are you at Erian’s clinic?”

They frown a little. “Nah, I didn’t like all the gatekeepery stuff he was doing, so I found another provider who relied on informed consent – they said I had to pick another species first to act as a base for the additional shapeshifter meds. Kinda feeling a little cheated now, even if I’ve been enjoying becoming a slime.”

“But you’re at a proper doctor, right?” I say. “Not just… some person who figured out how to make this stuff? In hindsight, I probably should’ve done that – mine is very hands-off, and the whole thing is super experimental – kinda realising that now seeing other people’s stories online. But they’re a shifter too, they’re the only one who does this specific thing, and I was desperate, y’know?”

They nod. “Yeah, proper doctor ’nd all, but I totally get the desperation, fuck, if I’d known I could get straight on shapeshifter stuff I quite possibly woulda gone for that.” They pause for a moment, looking thoughtful. “Although, if it’s shady like ya say, I’m not sure how willing I’d be to trust it, at least the people I’m going through seem safe and all, even if they are kinda delaying/shortchanging me a bit.” Another pause, before, “You sure it’s safe ’nd all? I mean, it seems to be working for you, but,” they shrug, “there’s enough shit we have to deal with without our meds biting us in the ass too.”

“Yeah,” I nod, “that’s it, it is working, that’s what I’ve been telling myself. But my provider’s really secretive – doesn’t want anyone else figuring out the formula. And I’ve hardly had any support, only vaguely know what to expect at each stage, pretty sure they’re using a false name… Actually that does sound pretty bad when I say it. But it’s working, right? And,” gesturing around us, “I didn’t believe this place existed.”

“Does seem very shady, definitely,” they say. “I’ve been having checkups every six months, actually due my third soon. I’d be careful, as I said, don’t want this to bite ya in the ass. That being said, definitely seems like it’s working.” They gesture at my third arm. “Can’t wait to be able to do more altering of my shape, but I need more human parts to get converted.” They point at their chest. “Still got ribs and stuff under my clothes, which sucks, but given how much my stomach melting hurt, I’m worried about how my spine going’s gonna feel, so for once, slowly is actually preferable.”

I wince a bit. “Ooh, that sounds painful. But, yeah, same here,” I say, remembering how overwhelmed by phantom body parts I was last time I was in the city. “Human’s still my default, and I can’t hold big changes for long yet.” I let my third arm dissolve back into my body – it’s starting to get uncomfortable already. “I’m Callie, by the way. She/her.”

“Oh, right, introductions.” They chuckle awkwardly. “I’m Sandy, she/they, nice ta meet ya Callie.” She extends a claw. “I don’t know how much overlap it’ll have, but you’re also kinda gooey, so maybe it’ll help, but I’ve found if you practice taking and holding forms, eventually it becomes like muscle memory, even if I’m running out of muscles, but you can eventually just kinda take and hold stuff easily.” They gesture to their talons and claws. “Been working on these for a bit now, and now they’re second nature.” They quickly shift between a claw and a human hand, her slime suddenly becoming more fluid, before effortlessly switching back.

I’m envious, I can’t deny it – but it’s not the hopeless envy I would have felt before. Now it’s more like anticipation, knowing that soon I’ll be able to do that too.

“Small changes are getting to be easy like that,” I say. “But,” and I hold up my own hand, “it’s still all bones in here.” And then, with a grin, “Can’t wait to try wings though.” I look up at the orbs floating overhead. “I really want to fly – been dreaming about that for years.”

“Gods yes, I can’t wait to have wings.” She follows my gaze up. “Being able to fly up there would be wonderful…” She trails off wistfully. “Just the freedom to soar up in the air, seems just perfect.”

I try to form wings – not for the first time – but I just don’t have enough goo yet, and of course my clothes are in the way. “I’d have to cut holes in this first though,” I say, tapping my T-shirt.

Sandy smiles. “Yeah, I’ve started cutting tail holes in my clothes, now I can actually have one, even if it is only a small one, not looking forward to all the measuring it’ll take for wings. Although I am vaguely aware there are some shops in the city that are actually trying to cater to those of us with… less human physiology. Haven’t had a chance to check them out yet, but might be something to look into.”

“Oh, I will. Actually, that reminds me! Look at this.” I take out my shapeshifter license and show them. “Can you believe we have to have a license?!” And then I add, “But it’s kinda nice seeing it on something official.” I’m feeling a lot better about it than when I filled in the forms – seeing it actually written down, what I am, is making me smile.

Their eyes widen. “Oh? What’s that?” She leans in to get a better look. “‘Provisional Shapeshifter License’? Huh, didn’t know that was a thing. But wait, yeah, why do you need a license, isn’t it just something you do?”

“They think we’re dangerous or something.” I shrug. “I guess we could be if we wanted to. But that’s not going to happen with me, I don’t want power or… any of that. This is just for me.”

Sandy nods. “Yeah, exactly, I don’t want shapeshifting – when I get there – for power, I just want to, well, be whatever, and ultimately me. People get so up in arms about it for no reason.”

“Familiar feeling,” I say. I’m thinking, of course, about being trans back home. “But we’ve got all the others like us, and that’s… something. People who get it.”

“Mmm.” They nod. “It’s nice to have others like us, this whole conversation’s been wonderful, well except for learning that I might’ve been shafted by my supplier. But yeah, it’s been nice meeting other people going through all this stuff and making friends through it all, and it’s been especially nice to meet another shapeshifter… even if I’m not quite there yet, but like, you get it, is the point.”

We talk a while longer, sharing old dreams of shapeshifting, wandering through the plaza and pointing out things we’ve never seen before. Then, at last, it’s time for me to go, if I want to catch the bus home. We agree to keep in touch, and we hug – and I do my best to form two extra arms for that, though it’s still almost the limit of what I can do. We wave goodbye, and I head home smiling. New city, new world, new friend.

First | Previous | Next

This chapter is a collaboration with @sandyca5tle – whose Slime HRT was one of the stories that inspired me to start writing this in the first place – and takes place between the 14 month and 18 month chapters of Slime HRT. Go read it, it’s goo-d! Also featuring the Hyper Light Festival created by @nuggetofthesea.

And here’s how the provisional shapeshifter license looks, using the template from Slime HRT 25 months. The fields are explained fully over there, but briefly, the letters on the bottom row show what you can do now, with the letters in brackets showing what you’ll be able to do at the end of transition.

And now that we’re approaching the one-year mark, more changes are on the way – coming soon, in Part 9: Hunger!

Tag list (tell me if you want to be added):

@ask-de-writer @avery-victoria-winterlight @botgirl-lilith @dierotenixe @leahnardo-da-veggie

@lunadook @mint-and-authoress @noizepushr @reliableslimegal @sandyca5tle

@saros-system @scrubbinn @the-gender-fae @theriomythic-lesbian @void-botanist

@wuwojiti @zzzestyy

[annalu86]

My TO

“So what was your training officer like, Officer Chen?”

The reactions of the group around the small table couldn’t have been more different upon hearing this simple question.

John Nolan’s eyes grew wide, he lent forwards slightly in his chair, becoming very interested in his lunch in front of him. His eyes regularly darting to watch the reactions of his friends and colleagues.

Angela Lopez on the other hand lent back in her chair, arms crossed over her chest openly taking in the scene in front of her. Ready.

Lucy Chen let out a slightly nervous cough of surprise as she was mid bite of sandwich, she began chewing frantically so that she could answer the question before someone, mostly likely Angela, could embarrass her.

And lastly Tim Bradford. Who upon Arriving at the table had smiled politely at the new face, who he knew to be Johns new rookie (Nolan had lent across and quietly whispered “Tim Bradford, Metro Liaison sgt” as way of an introduction), and taken his seat next to Lucy. Brushing the quickest kiss against her cheek as he sat, they were both in uniform after all, he hungrily set about demolishing the sandwich Lucy had pushed in front of him. Tim’s demeanour didn’t change upon hearing the question, his eyes didn’t flicker, his focus on the food of in front of him unswerving.

“Please” Lucy said, still swallowing sandwich “it’s lunch time, call me Lucy” she stalled

“Ok, Lucy” Officer Mason smiled “Officer Nolan has been so kind, so helpful! I’ve learnt so much already” she enthuses glancing at John who preens despite the obvious attempt at flattery “and I’ve met Detective Harper, who I know helped train Officer Nolan and Detective Lopez here was also a TO. Everyone seems so different, style wise. So how was your experience?”

“Yeah Lucy, how was your experience?” Angela grins widely, earning the briefest of glares from Lucy

“It was great actually!” Lucy says cheerfully, an involuntary snort of surprise erupts from John, earning him his own glare from Lucy. Tim’s focus remained on his lunch. “He taught me so much and made me the Officer I am today” Officer Mason nodded happily.

“It was all smooth sailing then Officer Chen?” John wasn’t going to let the months hed spent listening to Lucy moan about her nightmare TO slide just because Tim was now her boyfriend!

“Well…” the smile on Lucy’s face dropping for a split second to deliver another well aimed glare at John “if it had all been easy I wouldn’t have learnt as much”

“That’s so true!” Officer Mason enthused “it’s so important to learn from your mistakes” lucy nodded kindly.

“And you always got along?” Angela couldn’t help but take her turn

“No one gets along all the time, spending all that time alone together. There are going to be disagreements, but you work through them as adults, as professionals” Lucy finishes with flourish. She can’t help but notice the slight smile creeping at the corner of Tim’s mouth.

“So it was always very professional?” Angela pressed, before Lucy could wonder what she was getting at Angela continued “he was never unreasonable in his expectations? Didn’t punish you for simple mistakes?”

“Angela” there was a warning note in Lucy’s tone but Angela just grinned. Tim, nearing the end of his meal continued to keep his head down and ignore them all.

“He didn’t ever kick you out the shop and make you walk?”

“Or take your duty belt on a bathroom break” John added helpfully

“ Didn’t get you into a fist fight with a man twice your size”

“Or refuse to let you wear short sleeves in the middle of summer”

“Didn’t” Angela and John were in full swing now “take a picture of you when you fell asleep during a night shift, get it printed on a bunch of shirts and then pass them out around the station!”

“I’d forgotten about that one!” John said with a roaring laugh, turning to an increasingly shocked looking Officer Mason “I wear mine when I garden”

“Didn’t nickname you the goat whisperer, didn’t set a powder bomb off in your face, didn’t”

“Enough” said Lucy quickly eyes flicking between Tim and Officer Mason, trying to judge each persons reaction to the retelling of Rookie Chen’s adventures with her TO. “I think Officer Mason has got the idea” she laughs gently.

Tim, having finished his meal quietly began clearing up his trash.

“I look back on my time as a Rookie with nothing but appreciation and fondness, like I said, it made me the cop I am today. I’m very grateful to my TO for that.

“Wow.” Officer Mason shook her head from side to side “honestly it sounds like a bit of a nightmare! I haven’t heard any of the other rookies mention anything like that, please tell me he’s moved away from being a training officer now”

“Yeah, actually” Lucy says with a grin “I was his last Rookie”

“Except for the one after you that washed out” Angela whispered, as helpful as ever.

“Is he still in the LAPD? What’s he doing now?” Officer Mason gulps, eyes wide.

The sound of chair legs scraping across concrete draws everyone’s attention suddenly as Tim pushes to his feet

“I think he’s the metro liaison sgt now right?” And with that he simply leans down and once again plants a soft kiss on Lucy’s cheek, then silently turns and strides away.

Lucy can't help but chuckle as Officer Mason's already wide eyes bulge and her mouth opens and closes a few times, like a goldfish.

"He really was a great TO, a total pain in the ass, but a great TO" Lucy smiles at the young woman reassuringly.

"And as a boyfriend?" Angela asks, having clearly enjoyed watching it all play out.

"Still great.." Lucy grins wickedly "still a total pain in the ass!"

# Add tags to help people find your posts

[crinkled-emotions]

jake + 25 (from the 2022 list) or Jake + 1 (2024 list)

maybe with bradley as unwilling/less than thrilled caretaker if you’d like? (or not i don’t really mind im just happy to be here hehe💛💛)

Anon please know I never forgot this, it just took me so much longer because I dislocated my shoulder at reformer pilates 🤦‍♂️. I also went away for three weeks but that's mostly unrelated.

Jake + 1 "I'm not hungover, just sick" (or vice versa)

I saw twisters before I went to Victoria for a month and GIRL (gn) if I wasn't so stale with my writing I'd be smashing out all the fics about that dude with a huge... cowboy hat.

Resting his body against the doorframe to the ensuite in a move all too familiar, Rooster raised an eyebrow.

"How many did you have last night?"

Hangman, better known as Jake, sweetheart, or asshole depending on who he was terrorising, slowly lifted his head from the toilet.

"Roo, didn't you ever learn it's rude to ask a lady that?"

Bradley leaned down, offering him a hand.

"Nothing's rude when it's you. C'mon, I've got toast for you."

Jake grumbled, wrapping an arm around Bradley's shoulder and letting him take most of his weight as they headed for their bedroom door. His stomach flipped and Jake grasped Bradley's shoulder.

"Stop, wait."

Rooster did as asked, frowning as he rubbed slow circles on his partner's back. They stood still for a moment while Jake tried to keep his insides... inside. Considering it was still relatively early in the morning, they could afford to take the morning routine at a slower pace.

"I'm gonna puke again," Jake complained. Bradley sighed, turning them back toward the bathroom.

-

Taking a seat beside Rooster in the meeting room, Phoenix leaned over to whisper to him.

"Hangman was really drunk last night; you two good?"

"Yeah, everything's fine. I didn't realise he was that fucked up."

"Dude."

Phoenix sent Rooster a look, reaching for her pen.

"Do you not remember when he landed himself on your lap and didn't say a word for the rest of the night?"

Rooster did in fact remember that; he'd been in the middle of a conversation with Coyote and Bob when Jake had ambled over and plonked himself right on Bradley's lap. He'd then turned his head from the group and stayed there the rest of the night. In all honesty, Bradley just figured the alcohol had hit him a little harder than he'd expected but he couldn't remember Jake drinking that much.

"And then when he puked in the parking lot-"

That Bradley didn't remember.

"Wait- what?"

Phoenix's eyebrows furrowed and she tilted her head.

"Wait; did Jake not tell you?"

"When was this?"

Phoenix thought for a moment.

"It was really early. Fanboy ran back to his truck to grab his wallet and saw Jake tossing cookies."

Rooster checked the time on his phone, glancing toward the door. Jake had said he was going to the bathroom before their meeting but that had been almost ten minutes ago. Phoenix gently nudged his side.

"Go see if he's okay."

"I hate when he doesn't tell me shit. I'll be back."

Rooster stood, grabbing his water bottle from his bag and exiting the meeting room.

-

The men's room was a little too quiet for Bradley to be confident Jake wasn't in there. For someone who was the life of every party ever, the minute he wasn't feeling well he got... sneaky. Bradley was so used to it he walked to the furthest stall from the entrance to the bathrooms and gently knocked on the door.

"Can you let me in?" He requested. The lock clicked and Bradley found Jake sitting on the closed toilet lid, looking mildly unimpressed.

"Do you know my dump schedule or something?"

"Sure. C'mon, I'm taking you home."

"Did you clear it with Maverick?"

Bradley raised an eyebrow as if to say dude c'mon. Jake stood.

"Fine."

"Fine," Rooster mocked as he put his arm around Jake's waist and led him out of the (mildly disgusting) bathrooms. As an afterthought he swiped his hand across his boyfriend's forehead and Jake instantly recoiled.

"What are you, my mother?"

"Your mom doesn't hold a candle to me."

They shared a look. Jake stepped back into Bradley's arms, silent as the taller of the pair directed them to the exit.

-

"Now, here's what I'm thinking."

"Wow, did it hurt?"

"That's so cute."

Rooster leaned on the doorframe to the bathroom in a manner similar to that morning with an unamused look on his face, down to only wearing his boxers and a t-shirt. They'd come home and Jake had immediately started vomiting again (in the laundry sink, of all the places) so Bradley had called out for the day, a little worried he'd missed something a little more severe than a mildly unimpressed stomach. When they'd migrated upstairs it had triggered another bout of dry heaving. Jake, having shifted from on his knees by the toilet to sitting beside it with his eyes closed, grimaced.

"If I ever give Tasha shit for puking when she's drunk again, shoot me."

"Never."

Bradley stopped by the sink to grab a damp washcloth and, in a move he remembered his mom doing when he was younger, gently placed it on the back of Jake's neck.

"Are you going to be a pain in the ass if I take you to urgent care tonight?"

"I suddenly feel better," Jake deadpanned. His eyes remained closed. Bradley sighed.

"I expected as much. Go get in bed, I'll get you water."

"Roos."

Rooster paused, brushing his hand through his boyfriend's hair.

"I know."

-

It was like the world stopped spinning the second Jake got himself horizontal in bed. He'd been up and down all night, desperate not to wake his insomniac at best boyfriend, making frantic dashes in order not to hurl on the carpet in their bedroom. By the time Bradley's alarm had gone off there had been no hiding the smell of puke in their ensuite and the jig was up. Considering the night before, Bradley had just assumed he was hungover and that was how Jake wanted it. If he was hungover Bradley tended to be a lot less sympathetic and the last thing Jake wanted was to worry him.

Lying flat on his back, eyes closed, he kind of wished Bradley wasn't such a good person. It could be suffocating sometimes, coming from parents who were emotionally detached at best, to someone who loved with their whole heart. When Jake brought up how easy Bradley found it to love people he always credited his mom and her big heart.

"Here, I got water and crackers."

Jake opened his eyes just enough to catch a glimpse of said boyfriend coming into their room, pausing by his side of the bed with something before rounding to Jake and gently cupping the back of his neck.

"Sit up, you need to drink some of this."

Jake did as asked, relieved when Bradley's hand didn't move from it's spot. He offered the bottle of water and Jake hesitantly took a couple of sips, grimacing when it lit a spark of nausea and impending doom in him. When he didn't start gagging again he had another few sips then handed it back to his boyfriend. Bradley sat on the edge of the bed by his legs, squeezing Jake's hand.

"How are you feeling?"

"Rough," Jake finally admitted, "I thought I was hungover."

"I'm sorry, baby, I thought you were hungover too. How long have you been feeling like this?"

Jake shrugged.

"Couple days- the puking started last night, Roos, I swear if it started earlier I wouldn't have been drinking."

"Gatorade coming your way."

Bradley handed over the bottle, cool enough to soothe his throat but not enough to make his stomach hurt. Jake took slow sips, leaning against his boyfriend's shoulder when Bradley shifted to sit beside him.

"I'm just hungover," Bradley scoffed with a snort as he reached for his phone. Jake elbowed him in the ribs.

"Don't be mean, I'm sick."

"And now he's sick!"

"Roos."

Jake levelled his boyfriend with his best innocent face and Bradley sighed as he pulled Jake into his side.

"You're lucky you're not an asshole all the time."

[youcouldmakealife]

LBTE: Jared (132-133)

From the self-indulgent lows of finding out there's fic about you and your secret husband, to the legitimate lows of Bryce's final few months in Calgary.

If you want to read along, the series page is here.

132. Addressing the Audience

Treating myself by breaking the fourth wall a bit.

Jared fucks up his ankle with the most perfect timing in the world — right before the Canucks are off on their first official roadie. A roadie that includes Edmonton and Calgary, among other cities. It’s not too bad, he’s assured repeatedly, all ‘could have been worse’ positivity that would bug him more if it hadn’t been so close — he found a rut and he went down like he was shot, didn’t even fucking know what was happening, barely managed to brace himself. He could have snapped his ankle, landed on his wrist and broken it or his arm, blown his knee out. He got lucky.

Jared has actually been supremely lucky on the injury front throughout his career. When he does get injured, it’s not for long, and often could be worse.

Being injured is frustrating. And boring. Jared’s bored. Jared’s bored, and mad, because the Canucks are in Edmonton and Jared is not, and he couldn’t even sneak his way on the plane because there’s no way he’s game ready by the end of the road trip, plus he has appointments and check-ins constantly so he can’t like, fly off to Calgary in the guise of being moral support for the team. If it was a little better he could have flown with the team, if it was worse he could have gone back to Calgary to recuperate. He’s in an annoying fucking middle as far as LTIR goes.

Jared is a worse patient than Bryce in every measurable way. He should have been reminded of this incessently when Bryce was recuperating, but the ones dealing with it were mostly Elaine and Stephen. Elaine's too nice, and Jared (mostly) knew better than to bitch about Bryce taking his injury poorly to a dude whose hockey career abruptly ended at the age of 21.

Julius plays a hell of a game — Jared is not sulking ‘like a scowly little baby’ that they can’t hang out after, despite what one Stephen Petersen says

Who do you believe, Stephen Petersen or a scowly little baby?

Would have won by more if I was there, Jared texts Julius, and gets an eyeroll emoji from him right around the time he would have gotten his second star of the game, wrapped up media, retreated to his stall. He texted Jared pre-shower. That’s touching. Jared’s touched.

Jared says this sarcastically but he is 100% legitimately touched.

“He’s sulking,” Stephen tells Gabe.

“I’m not sulking,” Jared mumbles.

“Couple more weeks,” Gabe says. “Just be happy you didn’t do it when we finally got to go somewhere warm.”

“You’re flying to my husband’s city tomorrow,” Jared mutters. “What the fuck do I care about the weather.”

“Our baby’s cranky, Gabe,” Stephen says, then, “Fuck off, you don’t hit the driver!”

Stephen’s baby has gone from infancy to a sullen teenager, apparently.

And yes, never hit the operator of heavy machinery, even if he deserves it.

Stephen bitches about it, but considering he’s the one picking Jared up and driving him home — he’s still not allowed to drive, which is annoying — Jared is pretty sure he doesn’t mind. It is literally within his control how often Jared’s there.

He’s onto you, Stephen.

By the time Stephen returns he’s googled their names together and found like — stories. About them. And gifs. And something called a ‘ship primer’ which has a lot of information about him and Bryce. Like, an uncomfortable amount. Like technically public knowledge but you’d have to be really interested. And puts together some pieces way more cleanly than Jared would like.

Twenty minutes could bring you very, very far down that particular rabbit hole.

“What do you mean ‘they do that’?” Jared says.

Stephen yawns. “A small contingent are convinced Gabe and Dmitry are dating, have been for like, a literal decade, I wouldn’t worry about it too much.”

And that doesn’t infuriate Stephen at ALL.

“I wouldn’t call Dmitry good looking,” Jared says. “And Gabe—”

“You say a single disparaging word about Gabe and you’re clomping home on that injured ankle of yours after I kick it,” Stephen says.

Valid.

“—is very handsome,” Jared says, who is one-hundred percent Stephen would be petty enough to do it, and his painkillers haven’t kicked in yet. “Best looking Canuck by far.”

“Overselling it, Matheson,” Stephen says dryly. “Everyone’s fully aware you’re the prettiest princess of them all.”

Your occasional reminder that Jared is fucking beautiful, no matter how much he minimizes it.

“Pretend you never saw them,” Stephen says. “Pretend they don’t exist. Selective amnesia. That’s what Gabe does.”

“What do you do?” Jared says.

“Find it deeply offensive on Gabe’s behalf that anyone would think he would have such poor standards as to date Dmitry Kurmazov,” Stephen says.

Don’t talk to him about the Gabe Markson/Jake Lourdes fics in existence.

“I will confiscate that from you,” Stephen says. “That is going ten steps further down the road from googling yourself to read about your play. Don’t do it. Leave it to PR.”

“PR knows about this?” Jared asks.

Oh you better believe PR knows about it.

“Be like Gabe,” Stephen says. “Selective amnesia.”

It sounds like a good tack to take. One that Jared will probably be incapable of, but a good one.

“There’s probably more about you and Halla anyway,” Stephen says.

Stephen immediately following good advice with being a shit-stirrer. And he is correct on this matter as well. He knows a good bromance when he sees one.

Jared has forgotten everything. Jared has forgotten everything, so he is not obligated to tell his husband that there are stories about them, knowing that Bryce would panic, and he is not aware that E means explicit, as in explicit sex, meaning that people have written about fictional stories about him, Jared Matheson, having sex, and he is not completely enraged that there are, in fact, more stories about him and Julius than there are about him and Bryce.

Nothing Happened.

“How’s your morning babe?” Bryce says when Jared calls him over breakfast.

“Oh, fine, good, y’know,” Jared says. “I mean, not fine, injured, which sucks but like — considering.”

I think he does an admirable job not immediately blurting out ‘do you know people write about us having sex?’ frankly.

“I’m drinking from your Eeyore mug,” Bryce says. “If like. You want a pathetic image of how much I miss you. And Chaz threatened to kill me yesterday if I didn’t stop sighing.”

Sooooft.

“I really fucking miss you, Bryce,” Jared says before he can stop himself.

“I really fucking miss you too,” Bryce says, and Jared’s eyes are stinging when Bryce has to hang up to go to work.

Oh boys.

133. Affliction

Jared’s back on the ice for literally one game before Bryce fucks up his shoulder. They’re cursed. They have to be.

“You play a high impact contact sport professionally,” Stephen says when Jared says as much, talking to Jared likes he’s a toddler. “Injuries are inevitably a part of it.”

“Cursed,” Jared insists.

Yes, it is that shoulder. Again. By the time Bryce was broken by a baby it was hanging on by a thread.

He’s a big sulky baby when he’s particularly sore, and Jared will never, ever tell him it’s kind of endearing because obviously he shouldn’t encourage that sort of behaviour.

He will no longer find it endearing later, so it is probably good he never did tell him that.

The Bryceless Flames fly into town. Jared gets dinner with Chaz and does not sulk through it, no matter what Chaz says. Chaz should appreciate his presence.

Everywhere Chaz goes, a big sulky baby can be found.

Jared thinks about that moment a lot in the coming months: Bryce and his bright eyes and the coiled tension in his body, the excitement to get back on the ice, to play his game, to help his team. Bryce like a little kid on Christmas. Bryce happy.

Bryce stops smiling when he gets back.

Wow, chill with that scene transition, Satan.

It’s this ugly feedback loop, where the worse Bryce plays, the worse the media and the fanbase lands on him. It gets into his head. Bryce is shaken, you don’t need to be married to him to see he has absolutely zero confidence in himself right now, will pass instead of shoot, hesitate just long enough for the puck to get taken away. He gets a few, a player as talented as him is always going to get a few, but every time it seems like his offence is coming back it slips right through his fingers.

It is always stunning, how much an elite player can deteriorate in a perfect storm. It can honestly go from 'people fight over rights to me on their fantasy teams' to 'this man cannot hockey'.

And it’s fucking killing Bryce, he’s angry and sad and empty and numb at turns every time Jared talks to him, and Jared lets him vent, listens when Bryce needs him to listen, says all the reassuring things that are cliche because they’re true. All players have slumps. He just needs to get his confidence back. He needs to stop overthinking things and just go out and play hockey. Things Bryce’s coach is telling him, things Chaz is probably telling him. He must be sick of hearing them by now but he never cuts Jared off, lets Jared say them, maybe because he knows it makes Jared feel a little better, because at least saying something isn’t doing nothing.

Trade deadline day’s always an anxious one, but Jared feels genuinely sick going into it.

We just spanned over two months in one paragraph, because this is an Upper Case Series, and things would get downright lowercase if we hadn’t. Plus, you know. It’s just going to get worse, so.

Bryce has a no-move clause in the back-end of his contract, but it doesn’t kick in until the offseason, so he could be headed anywhere right now.

Not anywhere, anywhere, but it’s a 15 team no trade list at the moment, so half of anywhere. And huh, interesting fact about that upcoming no move clause, huh?

It’s a 3 team trade list, otherwise NMC, which I'd say is almost unrealistically pro-player, but a) Bryce left a not insignificant amount of money on the table at the time to secure it, because he was all in on Jared Matheson long before Jared was comfortable acknowledging that, and Jared should be settled into his team/career at 22 and b) the RL San Jose Sharks had like five players with one of those at one point. Sorry for any pain that any Sharks fan just experienced. You’re already suffering enough this season.

Chaz was the only fucking guy on that team that gives a shit about Bryce. So now it’s going to be nobody. Nobody in Bryce’s corner, nobody to hang out with on roadies, or team dinners, nobody to invite him over so he doesn’t go back into that shell he keeps hiding in, shutting out the world like it’ll help.

Bryce still has Ashley when in Calgary (they in fact hang out MORE after, because they're both pretty lonely), but yeah, he’s now completely at sea in that Flames room.

“Did you punch through our wall?” Jared says.

Bryce’s silence is sheepish.

“You’re lucky you didn’t break your fucking hand,” Jared snaps. He’s probably going to have to ask his dad to fix it, because fuck knows he doesn’t trust the discretion of some random Calgarian contractor not to spread a ‘Bryce Marcus Punched a Wall (We Presume Because He Wanted to Be Traded, That Ingrate)’ to add fuel to the fire. “Are you icing it?”

“Yeah,” Bryce says. “I just — he was literally the only good part of playing for the Flames right now. Everything else is shit, and it’s just — fuck.”

Obviously not an IDEAL way to react (especially because injuring himself at this juncture would be brutal), but considering where Bryce’s head is right now, it could have been much worse.

“Can you like, tie me to your bed and refuse to let me leave at the end?” Bryce says.

Look, he’d never refuse to report, but he thinks ‘kidnapped and tied to bed’ would make it not his fault. Also it sounds fun.

Bryce looks — rough when he gets to Vancouver, empty-handed slump shouldered at Jared’s door. It’s kind of a shock. Like, Jared’s seen pictures, clips of play, seen him on video calls, but it isn’t until he’s within arms reach, face to face, that he can see how washed out Bryce is, exhausted, like some kind of source of — light or something has burnt out.

He is already so burnt out at this point, and he still has the rest of the season and postseason to go.

What they do is a lot more violent than a hug, though that’s the closest word Jared can think of, Bryce breathing fast in his ear like he just got off a shift, Jared’s ribs aching, Bryce crushing the breath out of his lungs, and Jared doesn’t give a fuck, he doesn’t, he holds on just as tight and he lets it hurt for as long as Bryce needs it to.

It’s so blindingly obvious Bryce adores Jared. Less obvious the other way around, even though we’re in Jared’s head, but man, Jared loves Bryce so fucking much.

“I need you to be like, within arm’s reach until I have to leave,” Bryce says. “I know that sounds pathetic, but—”

“It doesn’t,” Jared says. “I can do that. Like, maybe not during the game, that’d raise some eyebrows, but—”

Bryce’s laugh sounds torn out of him. Jared wants to burn the entire city of Calgary down. He’ll tell his family to get out first.

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” Bryce says, voice so small, and Jared holds on tighter.

So fucking much. (The Mathesons and Murrays appreciate the heads up.)

“And if someone notices you just ghosted?” Jared says.

“Mom lives here,” Bryce says. “Can just say I fell asleep at her place. I doubt they’d get all worked up.”

“But if they do?” Jared asks. Usually that’d be true, but Jared is extremely aware how thin the ice Bryce is standing on is right now. Bryce is aware of that too.

Jared got a midnight knock on the door from his coach due to bullshit politics, so not an invalid concern on his part.

“I literally don’t care, Jared, if they’re going to act like I’m a fucking problem child I’ll be a fucking problem child,” Bryce snaps.

This has been Bryce’s attitude for so many situations in his life (with the Flames, with Calgary media, with Dave, with the camp, preemptively with his mom very briefly in his teens as a sort of 'will you still love me if I am a total douchebag to you?'/too cool to be nice to mom thing but it made her sad and that made him sad so he stopped real quick) and it really doesn’t do him any favours.

“I just want to have like, one night where I get to be with you and just be me and not to think about their bullshit and I just—” Bryce says. “Can we have that?”

“Yeah,” Jared says. “Of course.”

“Thanks,” Bryce says. “Thank you.”

“Stop thanking me for being like, a bare minimum husband,” Jared says.

“You’re a maximum husband,” Bryce says earnestly.

“Okay but like am I allowed to make fun of you right now?” Jared says.

Bryce’s eyes narrow.

“Because that was like the worst fucking—” Jared says, and laughs when Bryce bites his shoulder.

The emotional range here from Bryce being angry and clipped, to unironically calling Jared a maximum husband, to biting him. And Jared going with Bryce when Bryce needs it and taking the piss out of him for being soft. He’s gotten so much better at teasing Bryce without trodding on his feelings at this point.

Jared skates over to centre ice, but Bryce isn’t looking at him, doesn’t see him, and after a moment, feeling awkward, he skates back over to Gabe.

This is quietly one of the saddest sentences to me. Also really says something about just how bad Bryce’s headspace is right now, because that man has an internal Jared alert system installed by this point.

[boyakishantriage]

She stepped, one foot over another as the alien held his breasts high. So, trans people exist, and this motherfucker was yet another pirate. And I'm getting the sensation that the only reason I'm bumping into so many pirates like this, is because the coalition doesn't understand how crime works.

On earth, there was this whole thing where the underground had systems of government sort of. Money, debts. Whatever, ways to make crime in high society and stuff less stupid pains for legal governments, and the only reason I know this fictional system is because my boss has a seat on it.

The Terran circled around, her grip, her stance, her form. All of it was weak, light. A novice with so much bravado, it appeared that this human was all bluff. A fool.

The bell rang, the human holding her ground as she wasted the pirate's time.

Bleck, the planet had several ports, been explored about a third specifically around the ports and as a result. There'd been pirates, when we crashed and the others and I managed to build a settlement around our scattered shuttles, they'd surprised us. Thankfully, the area they found us was a little further away, the cluster of three shuttles leaving the twenty or so crew to be led back and by now Daniel had organised or at least was planning something.

Tribal, that's what the pirates were. Nicking resources, just taking leeching off the network across the room planet in the system, and the Dyson sphere experiment in the area was funneling a lot of resources. The courts had "asked" me to fix it. And the "malfunctioning turrets" meant the humans would take what would be, maybe a weekend of static testing (reading code) and setting up a temporary defence while they troubleshooted the problem, into a month long operation. Mostly by using the order to stall by experimenting with various new types of defences, occasionally "accidentally" causing minor issues meaning our ship had been parked here for six months. My third crash was reaching my halfway point and I frankly. Couldn't care less.

He spotted weakness, that blank stare was her not paying attention. Drawing weapon, he swung.

CLANG.

A blade held his, hooked the Terran sweeping the weapon into the air, forcing him back as she thrust the weapon off the hook towards him. Now standing straight, weapon held parallel as he caught the weapon. Like a statue.

This dance continued for a while, everything the man struck, she'd dodge, duck or disarm him. And he'd get his weapon back, but these light attacks weren't doing anything.

New strategy, the twirled the weapon, swishing the air as he aimed to strike her middle. A block, as he threw a punch, and he was suddenly on his back. Both blades held to his neck.

"one."

She'd toss the blade back at him, relaxing into a new stance. Blade held over her, body stretched like she were between a leap, roll or sprint. The alien for up, eyes following him as he swung for the legs, a kick sweeping across his face as she slammed her elbow into his chest. Throwing her ass out as a foot wrapped around his, the weapon held between her shoulder as she slammed her head into his face. Sending him flying to the floor, pushing off his falling body and landed a little further away, blade now held at her hip.

She's toying with me.

That much was obvious, but her form was perfect. Each strike had anticipated any moves he would do, before he could counter she'd struck blind spots, which forced strikes until he had to get back up.

The alien was finished playing, the tail unfurling as the agile alien held his weapon, practically telling me he was getting serious as we held positions.

Leaping first, jumping between spots and increasing velocity as he twirled, throwing a pair of kicks as he swept down. Blood hit the floor, a gnash on my arm.

The Terran jumped back, legs sweeping away as she proceeded to bandage and disinfect her arm while dashing away from her opponent. Constantly keeping a ruler's length away from him, as she drew her sword.

"Impressive."

"Eh?"

"You treated a wound, while keeping away from me."

"... Ok?"

The two now stood apart from one another, blood no longer dripped to the floor, the man standing still as she caught her breath.

"Tired?"

"nah, just forgot to breath."

"..."

His head turned, as he repeated.

"you forgot. To breath..."

"What?"

"How..."

She shrugged, drawing a second blade.

Hesitation. The Terran could duel wield, a longer lighter weapon and a heavier shorter one, each about as long as her elbow to hand. While she wore what looked like a makeshift leather breastplate, the leather melded together with heat, that was it. Aside from some clothes. Versus his fully leather body armoured, minus the iron vambraces, the two had similar weapons. Ignoring the part where his sword was vibrating at a high frequency, their weapons were similar.

It clicked, her swords were straight. And they hadn't been cut despite being what appeared to be titanium. Just, titanium blades, looking more like modified hoes if nothing else. The Terran then spoke up.

"alright. I can't deal with this silence. Who in Hell are you?"

"... I am Lowe Bymd. Pirate lord."

"Did ya make that name up yourself?"

"Yes."

"Bit childish innit?"

"Excuse me?"

"Pirate lord? What, is there a pirate King over ya?"

"Pardon, but it is pirate Queen"

"Bet she's got a sloppy cunt."

"Excuse me?"

"A whore, wanker. I'm calling your kind a good for nothing whore."

"You mean my mother?"

"Ohhh, so you're a bastard."

"HOW DARE-"

"and you sound like a posh cunt."

"..."

The man drew back, taking a few steps back.

"You're going to regret that."

"regret what nimble legs?"

The deer like alien's limbs flexed, muscles rippling-

"Ooh, and you've got thunder thighs huh?"

Nostrils flared, the man whinnying equally like a deer as he charged forward.

The human was calm, the deer cracking the earth behind him as he gathered speed, the weapon cutting ground like softened butter as she held her sword. Closing her eyes, as the alien drew his weapon back.

"NO ONE INSULTS TO T'VA"

"Loud cunt." She sheathed her blade from beside him, the neck slicing open like a blood balloon. Head snapping as she grabbed the body, sucking the blood out the body.

[chaletnz]

The Home Stretch: Lima to Cusco

The Cusco airport was more of what I’d been expecting - run down and dated without any useful or well-maintained facilities. I was at least able to get myself a map of the area and then headed out to be ripped off by a taxi like a lamb to the slaughter. I had not slept at all in over 24 hours, and there was no free wifi in the airport so I was willing to pay anything for a ride to the hostel so I could lie down and shower. I’d seen articles online saying it should be about 15 soles but he said 40 - in the grand scheme of things $12 for my own taxi in my current state of mind was not bad! There were a lot of stray dogs that I noticed during the drive, and the houses built small and close together with fences topped with bits of broken glass to deter intruders. I had a bit of a wait to get to my room so I sat in the lobby area to plan my afternoon and then a group arrived that I’m convinced are an Intrepid group like the one I’d done in Central America - mostly British, and including a guy who ended up breathing oxygen from a tank since he couldn’t handle the altitude. I showered as soon as I was able, and just in time because they shut off the water to work on some pipes in the courtyard. I laid down for a little bit and then once I was sufficiently hungry I went out for an early dinner of a 1/4 chicken and chips at Super Pollo which was good but super greasy so I needed to burn some of it off with a walk around the San Pedro Central Market and nearby streets. The market was only about half open with a lot of stalls closed for the day already. It was different to other markets I’ve been to too in the sense that people did not harass me to look at their wares, rather I was able to browse openly. It was the perfect temperature to be walking around in a tshirt while I admired all the trinkets and things for sale. I didn’t end up buying anything right away, since whatever I buy I will have to carry around for a month but I have some ideas of what to pick up at similar markets in Lima before I head home. I carried on walking around the small Cusco city centre to see some of the plazas, there was one with a huge crowd of people standing in a circle and some street performers in the middle. There were about six vendors selling popcorn just behind them, and numerous street dogs running around everywhere. One of the dogs peed on one of the popcorn stands which immediately put me off buying any street food! I was totally exhausted by this point so I headed back to the hostel to get some internet and plan out a few things to visit when I have my free days to explore Cusco. The tour ended up calling me ahead of schedule to explain everything important for me to know for my upcoming Machu Picchu tour tomorrow. While I was talking to him a girl sitting nearby had apparently been listening and trying to pick my accent. Her name was Jordyn, she ended up being from Steamboat Springs - very close to where I live in Colorado. Our plans were a little different for the week but after talking for two hours like old friends we arranged to meet up on Thursday for dinner after my day tour of the Rainbow Mountain. At last it was time to sleep at about 7pm after preparing all of my things for the tour and a quick shower in the morning.

[namorslutfanfiction]

hi, idk why but i have the notion of you living in california and i was wondering, would you recommend it?? i know it's expensive but average how much would you spend on a month?? i'd love to know what you think about it. (and if you don't live there i'm sorry lol). hope you're doing well!

Hello, thank you for the ask. I'm finally back on here today to reply to my inbox so you asked at a good time.

I do live in California. Northern. About an hour north east of San Francisco. My town is actually in the top ten most expensive in the country when you compare income verses cost of living. For some perspective, I was looking at a single room apartment or even a studio and unless its government housing for low income, rent starts at 1600 and can go up as high as 2200, if you don't want to live in a bad neighborhood.

As of now I am still unemployed after losing my job earlier this month. I was making decent money there at $22 an hour. As I look for jobs I'm lucky to find anything close to that, that isn't completely out of my wheelhouse of skills. I was also living almost paycheck to paycheck at $22 an hour because I have quite a bit of debt and a car payment/insurance.

Most people out here have roommates or if they can afford their own place usually work as tradesmen or in the medical field. I was working in the casino industry but had an hour commute. Traffic in Norcal is much better than Socal. But the interstate freeways definitely get kind of shitty during rush hour.

Pros of California

Decent weather most of the year. We pretty much always have some sun, barring this past crazy winter.

Very populous so lot's of fun places to go within an hour or two drive no matter where you live. I'm literally an hour from San Francisco, 45 mins to the state capital, 20 minutes to Napa/Sonoma, and there are several universities in the area which increases need for cool activities and outings.

Very diverse and liberal in metropolitan areas. Most people are actually really nice and chill.

Lot's of tech opportunities and start ups

Honestly a lot of industries have a big presence here so if you can put in the work you can find a decent job especially if you live in a big city.

Lot's of cool nature and hiking paths. It's a big state and we love to maintain some of the natural beauty. Beaches, mountain, forest, lakes and deserts. Bunch of national and state parks

No snow unless you're literally on a mountain

Lots of great authentic and diverse food.

Good place for furthering education. We have high level schools that are internationally renown.

We have a ton of farms and during peak seasons its super easy to get fresh produce for cheap from farmers markets, stalls, and fairs.

We have 9 international airports and have access to a lot of imported goods.

Most artists will have multiple CA stops on their tours.

Cons of California

Super high cost of living. Yes our average wages are higher than most states but it doesn't really cover how high cost of living is especially in metropolitan areas.

Rent and housing prices are super high throughout the state unless you live in a super rural area. Also very competitive.

Public transportation is not great even in the cities.

Traffic, especially in LA can add hours to a drive.

You have to have a car if you're not living in the middle of a big city. Most places in CA are pretty spread out and hard to navigate on foot.

WILD FIRE SEASON

39 Million people live in California the last I checked. Socal is more populous than Norcal.

You have to reserve camping spots like a year in advance at the best parks.

Housing shortage has led to a homelessness epidemic. See Skid Row in LA. And those apartments are also super expensive even surrounded by vagrants.

Sometimes the fog is so bad you can't see a few yards in front of you. Mostly during the morning. I used to drive home at 3 am after work and i was going 40 on the highway because it was so foggy.

That's all I can think of at the moment. But if you have any other questions feel free to message me or send another ask.

[liesonthefloordramatically]

So, about the fir writing ask! :D(uh, is there a limit how much I am allowed to ask? ^^;)I REAAAALLY wanna know: 1. the last sentence you wrote 3. how you feel about your current WIP 6. the word that appears the most in your current draft 12. a trope you’re really into right now 16. favorite place to write And if I'm allowed I'd also like 22. do you ever worry about public reaction to what you’re writing? how do you get past that? 23. pick three keywords that describe your writing. THANK UUUU <3

(ask meme here)

Below a cut because this is lengthy!

the last sentence you wrote

Oh boy, uhhhh, let's see...

The shelving is twisted almost beyond the point of recognition, its contents long since incinerated or melted into sludge.

(Scene-setting...my weakness...)

3. how you feel about your current WIP

Actually pretty good? I'm still enough in the middle that I cannot see the full shape of the thing yet, but far enough in that I'm not banging my head against the wall trying to get some kind of direction or momentum. Will it ever be available for public consumption? Who knows. But I am having fun with it!

6. the word that appears the most in your current draft

I'm crying. It's "Essek." Who could have guessed that the narrator's name would be the most commonly occurring word. #2 is "says." Deeply boring results, I am afraid.

12. a trope you’re really into right now

Man, tropes... When it comes to reading, fake dating is my one true weakness (it's SO easy to get me to read a fake dating fic but I WILL be furious the whole time if it's insufficiently fake dating-esque/if you do not understand the Point and Allure of fake dating), but I don't know that there are Established Tropes that I tend to be really into when it comes to writing. My most common additional tags are "Canon Compliant" (not a trope), "Character Study" (genre, not a trope), "PTSD" (also not a trope), and "Unreliable Narrator" (????).

If we're going for Queenie-generated tropes, obviously "every relationship has at least two people and at least one ghost" is up there forever and ever. I was going to try to say something about the "tropes" (central themes) of my current WIP but it sounded too much like the abstract of an academic paper on identity construction so we're gonna call it while we're ahead.

16. favorite place to write

*world's heaviest sigh*

Unfortunately....the bus to/from work is where I do the majority of my writing these days. I am aware that this is cursed behavior.

22. do you ever worry about public reaction to what you’re writing? how do you get past that?

On one hand, yes, but on the other hand, no. Historically, I have had fics stall out because I was in fandom spaces that were setting off my anxiety really bad (disjoint stalled out for ~6 months for this reason). disjoint and a flower blooming were probably the two fics that I was most nervous about public reaction to, simply because A. I'm less well-versed in VA canon than other parts, B. I have a VERY different read on a lot of characters than the fandom norms, and C. I know that VA fandom has some, ah, dramatic corners. (Public reaction was mostly fine in both cases, for the record!)

On the other hand, I do not have a huge following and I tend to write pretty weirdo niche stuff, so a lot of the time I am aware that I'm writing for an audience of me, the one to three friends who are excited about the concept, and then whoever else randomly stumbles across it once it's posted. Often I'm expecting a total lack of public reaction rather than, like, someone showing up in my comment section with a pitchfork. That's its own weird experience to navigate (spending a really long time working on something that then gets very little response), BUT the nice thing about not posting anything until the whole draft is done is that I cannot get discouraged by the response and lose the motivation to finish it.

23. pick three keywords that describe your writing

UHHHHHH, I am always wretched at these; let's go with:

nonlinear

embodied

blank space [this is two words but just go with it]

[lizascribes]

What is life like in Melbourne? I’m looking into moving there from the UK and would love some insights and whatever else from people who live and work there 💕

Hi So I lived in Melbourne for only about a year and moved back to my home country Cambodia about six months ago.

Tbh I had a fun but difficult time there. I think that's mostly because my partner and I arrived in the middle of a rental crisis. Not only was apartment-hunting super competitive (ie. us and 40 other people showing up to 1 viewing slot), but the application process also required a lot of documentation and boot-licking. We were required to give the names and contact information of each of our previous employers and landlords, and with every place we applied to they'd be hounded with emails and SMS that had to be responded to, or else our application wouldn't go through. My partner and I felt like we were annoying everyone while trying not to slip into homelessness.

Eventually we did find a place, but we had a good connection to thank for that (an international church network...), and the second place we moved to was also based on a good connection afforded with a fee (Wendy Scott at YourHomeHunterAU, 10/10 would recommend her services).

I think as long as you can show that you have a steady income, a clean record, and some Australian people who can vouch for you, then you should be alright.

this was a cute little street we lived on last year

When I was there I did a semester of uni at RMIT and picked up a job at South Melbourne Market's organic grocer stall, a gig that I got because of a friend I made at an embroidery class in uni. Melbourne is a city where you gotta follow that scent of fuck around and find out. Whatever your interest are, follow it, stay open, and the universe will reward you for your vulnerability.

There's lots of events going on in Melbourne every week and some of it is free! You can find events and activities on What's On Melbourne and Eventbrite. Australians are a really friendly bunch and usually chatty, so it's easy to make friends. And the connections you make are everything!

If you make friends with people who work at the markets, they can help you score 10-15% discounts at the market, or even share with you the 'last sale' produce they get to bring home at the end of their shifts (idk how universal this is, but it happened at the place that I worked at). Such connections were really what grounded me to that special sense of community.

But yeah, if it's one thing I miss about Melbourne, it's the sheer array of clubs and events that goes on all the time around the city. I got to try out so many things that I otherwise wouldn't have in Cambodia -- joined an all-women's choir, did team-rowing in the Yarra river, tried out pole dancing for a few months, etc.

{Rule of thumb: If you can dream it, there's probably a club with people who do just that every Thursday in the botanical gardens.}

view of brighton beach

So yeah, this is just what I can recall off of the top of my head. The people are nice and interesting, the air is clean, the arts is thriving. My friend and I agreed that the city has a sort of 'Gemini energy' about it. I loved it there but I came back because I didn't feel so connected to the history, and the air travel to anywhere else in the world got increasingly expensive, but it's a fine city otherwise.

I hope this helps!

Good luck on your journey ahead whether or not you decide to move to Melbourne <3

[40sandfabulousaf]

大家好! I attempted the 250 calorie challenge again this week to highlight the hunger faced by Palestinians in Gaza. If this is your first time reading, you can find details in previous posts. This mini ready to eat meal contains tuna, corn, beans and carrots, totalling 171 calories. Even though I ate this for second breakfast in order to make it to lunch, I was very apprehensive. I. Barely. Made. It. But I did. This little meal was tasty even though I don't like beans. There're 3 flavours and I've found all of them palatable. I'll certainly buy them again.

I may not crave fastfood, but I do have cravings for other meals. During our weekly catch up, Grace mentioned her sushi lunch. Suddenly, I was reminded of vinegary pearl rice topped with fresh fish. The craving drove me nuts! Our local supermarket chain has a food hall selling various types of meals, including sushi. That was where I dashed to for my fix. This platter of 10 was mostly delicious. They added a tad too much mayo to the salmon roll; apart from that, I relished every bite. Can't believe I forgot about sushi when it's yummy. I must have it more often!

There was a new dish at the cai fan stall which I visit for lunch on return to office days - stirfried tau kwa with leek. I love leek so I ordered that, stirfried broccoli and cauliflower, fuyong egg and rice. Shredded carrots, sweet peas and onions were incorporated into the dishes. Pork and chicken were available, but I couldn't resist fuyong egg and don't regret my decision to order it. If I must name the reason a meatless meal isn't a difficult choice here, I would give all the credit to our hawkers. Their egg and tofu dishes taste incredible and their prices remain reasonable. I paid $3.20 for this filling lunch. Good luck finding salad or pasta at this price with as much nutrition when you dine out!

https://www.reuters.com/world/middle-east/un-experts-say-famine-has-spread-throughout-gaza-2024-07-09/

We've been having scorching afternoons but we also have thunderstorms and downpours. It can get better pretty cold in the office and malls so I bought a sweater. This fleece one is warm and not only did I find it stylish, Pa did too. The colours match with shorts and leggings in my wardrobe so yeah, I'll get alot of mileage. I've brought it out with me a few times already and wore it when the air-conditioning got too cold. So far, I'm happy with my buy and I'll definitely check out 361⁰ whenever I want cosy sweaters!

Please check out the Reuters article, guys, it's heartbreaking to see children reduced to pi bao gu (skin stretched around bones, emaciated) and dying from starvation in Gaza as a result of this genocidal war. Human rights should be for everyone. If it is only wielded as a geopolitical tool, it just seems hypocritical to me. Frankly, I no longer believe that proponents of human rights are sincere about wanting to make the world a better place. Because watching these Palestinians suffer just feel so wrong. 下次见!

[adrian---murphy]

Having once been a somewhat overweight and unathletic, gaming middle schooler of mid-level intelligence, Adrian was really no stranger to wanting to curl up in a ball and die. Still, it had been a while since the feeling hit, due mostly to not leaving his apartment for varying reasons in the last couple of months. Oh, how he didn’t miss it. The woman’s dark eyes spoke volumes where she didn’t need to. He would say that he had never seen someone look so unimpressed with his presence alone, but he could very un-fondly remember the first time he had sex,  as well as the second and third.

“ I swear to God the only act I was acting on was peeing. I drank a lotta coffee this morning and it’s really cold in this building for some reason. Like I swear they jack up the AC the way they do in cop shows when they’re about to interrogate people. Do you ever get really cold and just suddenly need to pee? Cause like I swear in the winter sometimes I’ll be in a really deep sleep and the cold hits me and I gotta wake myself outta my sleep to go to the bathroom and that’s kinda what happened now. Not that I was sleeping here, I just mean it was cold and I had a lotta coffee to get me through the morning but I said that already and I swear I wasn’t in here trying to do anything but pee.”

Adrian took a breath. He was not helping his situation by any means, and he knew it. Still, the world wasn’t ready for him to catch a break, as her commentary made his cheeks redden even deeper. “ Aw shit,” she muttered as he turned his back to the woman. Fussing, he hastily tried to zip his pants, his shirt getting caught in the fly in the process. Frantically tugging, Adrian grumbled to himself between pleas to his clothing for them to cooperate. It fell on deaf ears as all his tugged ripped the zipper right off. 

“Oh you gotta be shitting me!” He hissed. The tiny piece of metal seemed to mock him silently as he glared at it. Finally managing to get his shirt freed, Adrian glanced over his shoulder at the woman before returning his attention to his hopeless attempts at getting his zipper up. 

“You ever just have a really bad day that you knew you shouldn’t have even got outta bed that morning because you just knew the world was gonna take a giant shit on all your hopes and dreams but you got up anyway because you need a job and you figure the worst that can happen is you die, but then you live and that’s so much worse?” He chuckled nervously, without humor. “ Cause that’s kinda how my day is going now and – shit!” He swore, the zipper flying from his grasp and going under a stall. 

“Yep, that tracks…” He nodded. His lips pressed into a firm line, Adrian turned to face the woman. “ My name is Adrian. I was here for a job interview. Say, you wouldn’t happen to have a safety pin on you, would you? Not for my pants, I just want you to stab me in the neck with it and let me bleed out right here.”

Tack this meeting along with the countless others that could’ve been condensed into an email chain, even a zoom call. Why they had ever returned in office was beyond her. Her role in the company didn’t even require her to be present for most of the hours she was paid to, and the crumbs of what she did need to know at the meeting were just as insignificant as the entire thing itself. No one in the room would be able to discipline her for an absence, and really her presence was a courtesy.

That being said, she did her obligation and kept her word on completion of the presentation. She was sure the intake of her role soaked in as little as the rest of this useless corporate formality, but there was a quick light at the end of the tunnel. One of the more annoying things about this business was the disingenuous nature of small talk. It was something Tabitha hated the most, because she knew nothing better than to twist words and search sentences for meanings behind words unsaid. Her entire reputation was based on her ability to manipulate and manage fires, and being around people whose reason for living was to suck the soul out of their bosses the long way filled her with a sense of misguided rage. It took her out of the room swiftly, set on the bathroom some corners away where no one would mindlessly mingle.

Shock knocked the wind from her throat and stifled her anger in an instant upon entering the bathroom. Her body stiffened, half for the primal instinct to defend herself against a man, the other simply because he was just as spooked as her. Fear was probably the last thing her expression conveyed, as he seemed more scared of her than the shit he currently stood in. Tabitha glanced at his eyes, almost as if in assessment. She also did a one over of his entire figure, as she did with everyone else she’d ever met. The steady stream of word vomit was a flag of honest admission, and for the most part this came to be true.

“You’re definitely talking way too much to be lying. That or you’re just guilty cause you were caught in the act.” He caught her at a curious moment, demeanor upended by this strangers unfortunate turn of events. “Its hard for me to give you the benefit of the doubt when I can see the Hanes 10 pack flannel pick of the week between your open fly.” Judging eyes were now joined by a smile. “You wanna tell me your name and why they let you in the building? Why are you here? Cause I know they don’t let people in just to piss.”

[seresinsbabe]

Some Strings Attached

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x fem!reader

Synopsis: It was supposed to be a quick fuck. No strings attached. That was all. But six weeks later when you’re staring at two pink lines you realize there were some strings attached. And now you have no idea how to find the father because you only know his first name.

Warnings: discussions of pregnancy symptoms, pregnancy tests, mention of abortion, doctors visits, ultrasounds, general early pregnancy stuff that may trigger some

Word Count: 2.2k

THIS BLOG AND ITS FICS ARE 18+! MINORS DNI!

I do not consent to having any of my work shared on any other platform. If you see any rendition of my works on another site know that it has been posted without my permission.

Prologue | Masterlist | Next Chapter

You ran through the next few weeks on autopilot. Things at work were so busy between the big case you were helping on and trying to study for the Bar exam. And the lease on your apartment was ending in the next few months. The leasing office had been bugging you about renewing, but you just weren’t sure if you wanted to yet. It was a nice enough apartment, but you were starting to feel like you needed more space. It was only a one bedroom and San Diego was going to be your home again. It was time to put down some actual roots. Your parents would always let you move in with them until you found a house. Not to mention your car was starting to become unreliable. Just the other day it stalled in the middle of an intersection that thankfully wasn’t busy. 

With all this going on you hadn’t noticed the changes happening in your body. The sudden upswing in nausea you had barely noticed and when you did you attributed it to a pattern of forgetting to eat because you were so deep into your work. You hadn’t even noticed the tenderness in your breasts, perhaps because no one, including yourself had touched them in a way you’d notice the tenderness. You’d been feeling extra tired but you just attributed that to the amount of work you’d been doing. It wasn’t until your nausea hit the breaking point of vomiting one morning when Cassie was over that your mind even went there.

“Wha-no! I mean ma-no!” You vehemently shook your head as Cassie looked at you with wide, nervous eyes. “I’m on the pill!” You were religious in the way you took it…okay well that was a lie. If anyone was a serial pill forgetter it was you. 

“Yeah but didn’t you forget them at your parents house that weekend?” Your eyes went wide and you felt sick again at the realization. That night you hadn’t been taking your pill and you hadn’t used a condom and…he didn’t pull out. 

“Ohmygod. Oh. My. Fucking. God.” Your finger wove through your hair, gripping so hard at the root that it was a bit painful. “What am I going to do? A kid? Am I even ready to be a mom? I don’t even know his last name!” The tailspin was starting and Cassie knew she was going to have to stop the spiral before it got out of control. 

Softly she grabbed your wrists and pried your fingers out of your hair. It was like you were paralyzed with shock as your best friend pulled you into a tight hug. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I mean period and pregnancy symptoms are the same. It could just be your time of the month. Come on, I’ll go with you to get some tests.” Cassie was right. It could very well just be your period showing up. You nodded and let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. 

No words were spoken as she grabbed both of your purses and pulled you out the front door. There was a CVS not far from your apartment. Your body was wrought with nerves at buying a pregnancy test in your hometown, but San Diego was big enough and the parking lot was still mostly empty with it being morning that you didn’t think you would run into anyone. You were coming close to your twenty-seventh birthday anyway. Buying a pregnancy test was common for people your age, but that didn’t make it any less awkward in your mind.

Ten minutes later you stood in the family planning aisle of the pharmacy. There were so many tests you had no idea what ones to get. Digital? Not digital? Clearblue? First response? How was it that you graduated law school at the top of your class but you couldn’t pick a fucking pregnancy test?

Cassie showed back up at your side, a bottle of wine and a multitude of snacks in the basket on her arm. 

“Wine?” You raised an eyebrow at her.

“Yeah, for us to celebrate if it’s negative.”

“And if it’s positive?”

“Then I’ll drink the bottle for the both of us.” You let out a biting laugh and turned back to the tests. Cassie’s hand popped up in your view, plucking a pink box with a set of three tests. “I remember seeing a couple boxes of these in my sister’s bathroom when she was trying for Stella.” That was all the convincing you needed.

You guys were in the home stretch. Standing in line behind some old lady picking up a pack of depends and prune juice when the door chime went off. Your leg was bouncing and you were staring at the floor when a familiar voice spoke out.

“Well look what we have here!” If a black hole was going to open up and swallow you whole you wished it would happen sooner rather than later.

Looking up you spotted hair so bleached it was unnaturally white, especially when paired with the overly tanned skin. Libby Wilson. A ghost from high school past that you hoped would stay in the cemetery. Libby had taken the Y2K popular girl trope way too seriously. From the looks of it she still took it too seriously. Most people grew after high school, became different people and changed their looks. Not Libby. Her clothes were a little more modern, but other than that it was as if she was looking at a yearbook picture.

And as if the universe wasn’t shitting on you enough it was like her eyes were drawn to the items in your basket, specifically the box of tests. Her eyes bounced around at the other items and then to you and Cassie. Apparently the bleach hadn’t completely fried her brain and she was still able to connect the dots.

“Oh, honey, aren’t we a little too old for this? I mean we’re not in college anymore.” You didn’t have the fucking mental capacity to deal with this. Normally you would have been quick on your feet with a comeback, but your mind was failing you at the moment. 

Thankfully Cassie’s mind was still working at full capacity. 

“Your husband still seems to be stuck in high school. Or at least he was when I saw him at O'Shaughnessy's with Melanie Baker last weekend.” A smirk tugged at your lips as you watched the anger flash across Libb’s face for a quick second before she regained her composure. 

“Well. Good luck.” It was a sickly sweet call of support before the woman turned and walked towards the pharmacy counter.

You squeezed Cassie’s hand in silent thanks as the old woman finally paid for her items. Your nerves shot back up one ride home, only getting worse the close you got to your apartment. What were you going to do if you were pregnant? There was always an abortion, but did you really want to do that? Yet at the same time could you really juggle being a single mom and starting a law career? Sure, your parents, your siblings and your friends would absolutely help where they could. But you knew yourself, you knew how stubborn you were when it came to accepting help. Even if you needed it. 

And Jake. What were you going to do on that front? All you had was his first name. He could be halfway across the world right now. Even if you did find him, who was to say he would want any part of this? Still, did he deserve to know if you were pregnant? This whole thing was a mess. This was exactly why you didn’t listen to your pussy. Your brain has never steered you wrong.

Three minutes had never felt so long. Your hand was tightly clasped around Cassies as you waited, tears ready to spill no matter the results. The time on your phone went off, but you didn’t move. It was Cassie who made the move to shut the sound off. She stayed still, her eyes on you as she watched to see if you would move. When she realized you weren’t she tentatively pushed herself up from the floor. 

“So?”

“It’s positive.”

Suddenly you couldn’t breathe. Your chest felt tight and at the same time you could hear your heartbeat in your ears. You felt the tears rolling down your cheeks but your head spinning so much you weren’t sure if they were real or not. Positive. You were pregnant. A metaphorical window opened and all your plans for the future flew out of it.

Of course you knew you had options. It was your body, it was your life. Despite the heavy feministic views you had you just knew you couldn’t make the decision without at least trying to find Jake. It was only fair. You worked in the legal system, you’d witnessed mothers give up their legal rights. If that was what you so chose to do. Maybe you would come to find you wanted to step up. That you would want to be a mom to the little thing growing inside of you.

Cassie’s voice was what finally brought you out of your second spiral of the day. 

“Don’t freak out yet,” you scoffed. That was easy for her to say. She wasn’t the one pregnant. “I think you should call your doctor. Set up an appointment to get a blood test. Maybe you just happened to have three false positives?” You gave her a look that said yeah right, but you knew she was just trying to make you feel better. To find a glimmer of hope in a not so sunny situation.

The days leading up to your appointment felt like an out of body experience. Your mind was constantly running, you’d called in sick yesterday, and then again today. Which thankfully, due to your otherwise spectacular attendance, no one questioned it. 

You took a deep breath and it came out shaky. The paper sheet underneath you crinkled as you waited for Dr. Bahn to return with your results. Over the weekend, through a lot of tears with Cass you decided you were going to go through with the pregnancy. 

It wasn’t going to be easy, but you wanted it. You’d always wanted to be a mom, maybe not in this way and not this soon, but you knew you wanted it. As far as Jake was concerned, you were still going to try to find him. You were going to give him the option to be in the child’s life, but you were also going to give him an out. If he didn’t want anything to do with the kid he could waive his rights, you wouldn’t come after him for any child support. He could effectively wipe his hands clean of it all.

A knock at the door signaled the doctor’s return and you sat up straighter. Cassie, who had stuck with you like the dutiful best friend she was, tightened her grip on your hand. Dr. Bahn studied your face, trying to read your expression while hers remained neutral. 

“The blood test came back positive.” Relief you hadn’t been expecting washed over you. Happy tears pricked at your eyes. “Considering the estimated date of conception would put you at about 7 weeks we’re going to go ahead and do the initial ultrasound. I’ll give you a moment to change.” You nodded, watching as the woman exited the room again.

No sooner had the door closed was Cassie asking you how you felt. You just shrugged as you changed out of your clothes, not thinking twice about Cassie being in the room with you. It wasn’t as if she had never seen you naked before during your twenty-two year friendship.

“Relieved? Happy? Nervous? I don’t know, this is a big change.” You answered as she helped tie the robe from behind you. Another knock came and the ultrasound machine was pushed in by a medical assistant. Dr. Bahn followed in, her expression still neutral. It must have been something she’d practiced over the years. It wasn’t until you were crying, a small smile on your face as she pointed out the barely there blip on the screen. 

In the passenger seat of Cassie’s car you stared down at the ultrasound picture, your fingertips lightly brushing over it. It was a quiet moment of solitary bliss before Cassie started up with the questions again. Questions you didn’t want to think about just yet but that you knew you couldn’t really push off. Like when you were going to tell your parents, what you were going to do about your car that was in the shop again, and of course what you were going to do about Jake.

“I’m not going to tell my parents until I figure things out regarding Jake.” It wasn’t that your parents would be overly upset with you, your mom was somewhat of a free spirit and your dad pretty much did whatever she wanted of him, they would probably be happy. After the initial shock wore off, but you knew they would want to know about the father. It was already going to be embarrassing enough for you to tell them the pregnancy was the result of a one night stand, let alone that you had no clue who or where the father was.

Cassie nodded. “Alright, let’s get looking for Mr. Jake.” 

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[rynwritesstuff]

maybe eddie x plus size! reader w/ the prompt “lying on the couch on top of eachother, one combing their fingers through the other’s hair as they watch a movie” but maybe reader is kind of worried at first to partially lay on him but like,,,fluffy though ? im sorry i suck at writing requests haha thank you!

I love this!!

Eddie Munson x PlusSize!Reader

Warnings: Brief mention of being too heavy, fluff, comfort, Eddie playing with your hair

Eddie won't let anything get in the way of him being close to you. - Oneshot

"Come here, or so help me god--"

"Munson! Be patient!" you say, huffing softly as you stall.

You've only been dating Eddie for about a month, and he's never asked you to lay on him. You're extremely hesitant, mostly because of the fact that you weigh more than he does, but you're embarrassed to point that out.

You walk into the living room, snacking on some chips as Eddie flips through channels. He looks up at you, a big smile on his face as he reaches out to you.

"C'mere, please," he says. You set down your bowl of chips. "C'mon, c'mon, I wanna hold you."

You smile softly.

"I'll crush you," you say, not really joking. Eddie's face falls.

"You'll-- what?"

You gesture to yourself.

"I'll break you, I think."

"Are you serious?" Eddie asks, sitting up a bit. You say nothing. "Oh my god, sweetheart, don't say shit like that. You're not gonna crush me."

"Eds--"

"No, no, I'm serious. Don't put yourself down like that. I wanna hold you, just c'mere."

You figure that there's really no point in arguing anymore, so you carefully lie down on top of your boyfriend, your cheek resting on his chest and your arms wrapped around his middle.

"There, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Eddie asks, his hand finding your hair almost immediately.

"Mm. Can you even breathe?"

Eddie smacks your ass, and you jump, laughing softly.

"Stop that," he says as you push your head against him again. You hum softly as he begins to play with your hair again. "I can breathe just fine."

You close your eyes, relaxing against him.

Eddie is silent for a few minutes, and the only sounds filling the room are breathing and the TV. Eddie kisses your forehead, and you let out a soft 'mm?'

You had been drifting off.

"I think you're perfect how you are," Eddie says. "Y'know. Just in case that wasn't clear."

You kiss his clothed chest.

"Thanks, baby."